No, I will not fold your laundry; a poem.

Hello Shirt, laying in a toasty dryer.

Hello Sock, wedged beneath a ball of lint

Hello Penny, soon to be in my pocket.

I need a dryer, I need one soon

All are full, what do I do?

My wet underpants restlessly await their warm tumbling

But, alas, they are confined to a swampy cylinder of moistness

I need a dryer, I need one soon.

A girl walks in; a 6 out of 10

She needs a washer, the one my clothes are still in

She glares me down, in an un-sexual way while

My wet underpants restlessly await their warm tumbling.

To the owner of the  shirt, socks, and penny (formerly), where are you?

I need your dryer, the six will soon need it too.

I will count to three, here is where you need to be.

Fold your clothes? I shall not!

I will not fold your clothes, because you forgot

They’re going on the floor because

My wet underpants restlessly await their warm tumbling.

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